Like He Belonged There
by Maddie-the-Muse
Summary: Who did he think he was? Sitting there like he owned the place, oblivious to how he looked spread out like that in my space; on my furniture? Relaxed and calm, like he was comfortable there; like he belonged there? Pre 3x09 canon compliant. *pre-slash*


He was sprawled across the couch when I walked in. Seated far enough forward that his ass hung off the edge of the cushion; his head and one arm resting on the low back. His other hand laying loosely by his side. Cora was perched on a stool at the table; the two of them tossing casual banter back and forth between them.

I stood in the doorway just watching them for a minute. Cora obviously knew I was there, but he hadn't acknowledged my presence yet; my presence in my own apartment. I couldn't focus on anything they were saying; my mind completely focused on the sight before me.

Who did he think he was? Sitting there like he owned the place, oblivious to how he looked spread out like that in my space; on my furniture? Relaxed and calm, like he was comfortable there; like he belonged there?

I yanked the door the rest of the way open, letting the wheels bang against the stop on the track. He rolled his head along the back of the couch to face me in the door way, his eyes wide and his eyebrows lifted high and questioning.

"I see you're in your usual cheery mood," he scoffed with a huffed laugh, turning back to stare aimlessly at the ceiling. He didn't react to me at all anymore. His heart rate used to spike with nervousness just being in the same room. Having him being more comfortable around me, and the rest of the pack, had proven to be less of a distraction, but now it had gone so far in the opposite direction that I found him difficult to read. I had no idea what he was thinking or feeling half the time; it made me crazy.

"Derek?" Cora said turning to face me as well. Her voice was laced with a question, clearly sensing that something wasn't sitting right with me. I could feel her watching me, but wasn't able to tear my eyes away from where Stiles sat; his body loose and relaxed, knees spread wide. I watched with rapt attention as his eyes slowly drifted closed, seemingly unconcerned with either my entrance or Cora's reaction to it.

"Give me your keys," Cora demanded, standing abruptly from the table and walking toward me. "I feel like Thai food." She stared pointedly, standing just in front of me with her hand out. "Oh, yeah! Get green curry chicken," Stiles chimed in from his perch without opening his eyes.

Cora glancing at Stiles and back to me with questioning raised eyebrows told me, in a less that subtle way, that she was clearing out internationally.

I sighed and dug the keys out of my pocket and handed them to Cora. She held out her other hand, rubbing her fingers together in request of money, too. This was my life now; teenagers making demands of me every time I turned around. All except the one currently taking up too much space on my furniture, he didn't make demands, he was just always there.

"I'll be back in a bit," Cora chirped, giving me a pointed look before leaving and pulling the door closed behind herself.

Yeah, it was clear she had me figured out; it was time to put an end to this.

I watched him until I could no longer hear Cora on the stairs, telling myself that it would be easier if she wasn't in ear shot. I'd have to thank her later, somehow.

"What are you doing here, Stiles?" I didn't move from my spot beside the door.

"Believe it or not, while you were off doing whatever it is you get up to when you're not lurking in the shadows, Cora and I were working on this Darach problem we seem to have," he scoffed, turning his head to crack an eye open at me. It felt almost like the kid could look right through me sometimes. "Now, I'm waiting for curry chicken," he finished with a laugh and closed his eyes again.

That laugh; that stupid little huff of air forced through his pursed lips. That was nearly my breaking point more times than I cared to count. That nervous, almost fake sounding laugh was what had me stalking forward then—had me moving quietly toward him, toward this too young, way too annoying, boy that had some how worked his way under my skin. Before my mind had a chance to catch up with the action my body seemed thrown into by that addictive sound, I was standing in front of the couch. I was standing close enough that I could reach out and touch him if I allowed myself to. Close enough that the heady tang of him filled my nostrils. I drew it in, filling my lungs greedily.

I watched him a moment before finding a way of speaking up and telling him to leave. I watched the beat of his heart in the hollow of his neck, watched the rise and fall of his chest with his steady, calm breaths. I needed to make him understand that he couldn't be here, let him know he wasn't welcome, make him leave for good. That's what I knew I had to do.

That's not quite what happened, though.

I silently took the final few steps forward, stepping into the space created between the edge of the sofa and his knees. Baring my weight by resting a hand on the back of the couch next to his head I leaned forward and breathed his scent deep into my lungs before speaking. "You shouldn't be here, Stiles."

The fact that he barely jumped, his heart only giving a slight uptick as he flinched his eyes open to look at me looming into his personal space, was a clear indication that he had become far too comfortable around me. No human should be that at ease in a werewolf's space; no werewolf should be comfortable enough around a human to allow them to become that unguarded in their space.

"Oh my god. Out of my bubble, dude!" he yelped, but made no attempt to regain his personal boundaries. Instead, he stared up into my face, his eyes flicking searchingly between my own. I needed to tell him to leave, but couldn't force the words out of my mouth.

He dropped his arm form the back of the couch and sat forward a tiny amount, his eyes never leaving mine. "Derek?" he asked, his eyebrows dipping together in concern.

"You can't just come in and sprawl around like you belong here." My voice was hardly more than a shaky whisper. I could feel the last of my resolve slip away from me as his heart rate fluttered and increased ever so slightly. I dug my fingers into the back of the couch to prevent them from reaching out to him. "You need to leave."

His tongue poked out, swept across his bottom lip and disappeared into his mouth again before he spoke. "That's a little difficult with you practically on top of me." His pulse spiked. I watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly, fighting not to dip my head and lick it.

He raised his hand from the couch cushion, letting it hover a moment before resting it gently on my hip. I was a goner with that first touch. I'd craved it for so long that having him touch me now sent all reason and logical thought fleeing from me completely.

He pushed himself off the head rest, sitting up to meet me as I dipped my nose to the soft hollow spot behind his jaw that seemed to be the source of the intoxicating scent that haunted me.

"Shit," he gasped as a rumble poured up from my chest. I had fought this so long, that giving into it now was overwhelming any control I thought I had. His fingers curled into my hip, pulling my further forward into him. I wanted to be as close to him as I could get—I needed it. He sensed it too, sitting further forward and drawing me in as I rested my knee on the couch next to his hip.

I traced the taught tendon in his neck with my nose, breathing him in deep, drawing myself as close as I could get. He grasped my thighs firmly as I perched myself across his legs, my face still buried in his neck.

"Derek?" His raspy voice vibrating against my mouth helped ground me and drawn me back to the reality of the situation. I had just crawled into the lap of a human-an underage human at that-who for all intents and purposes was part of another pack despite how much time he spent with my own. I had put myself in a position that could result in a pack battle if Scott were to find out about it and take exception. Stiles belonged with Scott, not with me.

All of that was difficult to register as a concern with Stiles' long fingers flexing repeatedly into the muscles of my thighs and his pulse under my lips. " I thought you wanted me to leave?" he asked. He nudged gently against where I had my face pressed behind his ear trying to draw my attention. I reluctantly pulled back enough to look at him.

"No. I said you should leave," I clarified. I didn't want him to ever leave.

"I should?" he asked and I managed a nod. "But you don't want me to go?" I could almost see his mind working, trying to figure out the puzzle of this new situation, as his eyes darted around my face.

"No," I practically whined, clenching my teeth tight afterward.

I felt his grip loosen from my thigh as he brought one hand up to my face, his fingers brushing lightly over my flexing jaw. He continued to search for an answer to some unasked question, his brows eventually relaxing from a concerned arch. He watched me a moment longer, letting his hand drift down my neck and settle on my shoulder.

"Will you kiss me, please?" he asked finally, seeming to have found enough of an answer. I happily obliged, leaning forward and taking his lips with my own.

**Disclaimer: **The preceding is based on the characters, settings, and events from the MTV _Teen Wolf_ series. All recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The author, know by the pen name Maddie-the-Muse, is in no way associated with MTV, or the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise related to The _Teen Wolf_ series. Only aspects entirely unique and original to this story are owned by this story's author. This work is intended for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended.


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